


heart of stone

by trivia_love



Series: febuwhump 2021 [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: But also, Canon Compliant, FebuWhump2021, Gen, How Do I Tag, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, May Parker (Spider-Man) Needs a Hug, Peter Parker has PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:55:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29176791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trivia_love/pseuds/trivia_love
Summary: May’s holding him in her arms and she’s finding it increasingly difficult to hold back her tears, and there’s something a bit too soberingly familiar about the pair of them crying over a man who was taken before his time.“I can’t take this anymore,” Peter sobs, “I seriously can’t take this anymore.”Peter’s amassed more trauma in sixteen years than most people do in their entire lives. It’s not really fair. Bad things shouldn’t happen to good people, and Peter’s one of the best.
Relationships: Happy Hogan & May Parker (Spider-Man), May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: febuwhump 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141946
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	heart of stone

**Author's Note:**

> for febuwhump day 2 - "i can't take this anymore". sorry it's a little late!!

There is a three hour gap between May blipping back into existence, and her speaking to Peter.

She never knew that time could move so slowly. She’s sick to her stomach the entire time, watching breaking news reports and blurry drone footage showcasing the battle on repeat, searching for signs of her boy to make sure he’s still alive.

Sometime around the seventy minute mark, May’s still sitting on the sidewalk outside of her apartment— of what was her apartment. Someone else lives there now, and every trace of her and Peter’s life there has been erased. It’s been five years, and somehow the fact that she is homeless is not a priority right now. There are more important things to worry about, May thinks, when your teenage nephew is fighting in a battle that has the fate of the universe hinging on it.

A call comes through to her phone as she’s analysing every frame of a ten second video clip of the battle taken by one of the news stations’ drones. It’s shaky, and May can barely make out human figures, but she’s trying anyway, because she’s so scared. She’s come back to an unfamiliar world, but one thing she still knows to be true is that she can’t lose her boy. Her ringtone shocks her, snaps her out of her panicked daze, as her eyes focus on the words on her screen: _Happy Hogan_.

She gasps, her thumb shaking as she accepts the call, “hello?”

“Mrs Parker,” Happy’s voice comes through the other end of the line, “are you safe?”

May has not spoken to Happy Hogan much; mainly hears about him through Peter’s stories. She knows what his car looks like, though, from two years of the man dropping Peter home after alternate weekends upstate with Tony Stark. He’s a good man, May thinks, from the way Peter talks about him. Kind, with a gruff exterior that Peter tells her is _not really real, May, he just pretends to be all grumpy and stuff because he used to be Mr Stark’s bodyguard, ‘n he thinks he still has to be scary._

“Do you know what’s happening? With— the battle,” May asks quickly, because it’s the only thing on her mind. And then, because she’s not rude, she answers, “I’m okay, just outside my apartment. Well— not my apartment anymore. I’m outside. I don’t know.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes,” Happy says, and May’s certain he’d have to break some major traffic laws to make that happen. The roads of New York City are completely jam-packed, which seems like something expected after half the universe comes back to life, “and I’ll tell you what I know. I can’t really say anything over the phone.”

May gets it. When she had first found out about Peter being Spider-Man, he’d told her not to mention his identity in calls or texts. _You don’t know who’s listening_ , he’d said, _it’s better to be safe than sorry, isn’t it?_ May’s sure that the details of this battle fall under that same umbrella of sensitive information.

The conversation ends pretty quickly after that and, true to his word, Happy’s car pulls up in front of her five minutes later. She slides into the passenger seat with no preamble, a worried strain of adrenaline running through her veins as she turns to the man beside her and says, “what the hell is going on?”

“What do you know?”

“It’s been five years,” May recaps, recalling everything she’s read online since she’d returned, “an alien… killed half of life in the universe, with some magic stones. Now we’re back.”

“That’s the gist of it,” Happy affirms as he pulls away from the sidewalk, “the Avengers just brought everybody back, and Thanos is back, too. Destroyed the compound upstate, and they’re fighting there. Thanos is pissed his snap was reversed, and now he wants to wipe out the entire universe. He needs the stones to do it, so everyone’s playing a big game of keep-away right now.”

May nods. Fifteen years ago, she wouldn’t have even been able to comprehend this situation. But she lives in a different world, now, and it’s best for her to just accept anything. Aliens have invaded New York; Norse Gods are real; her nephew has spider DNA. May knows how to take things in her stride. She’s had a lot of practice.

There’s a brief period of silence as May processes the information. Then, because she still has her priorities, she asks, “and Peter?”

“He’s okay,” Happy reassures her, “he disappeared, too, but he’s back now. And he’s giving those alien bastards hell.”

May stares out the front window with a small smile, pride intertwining with her worry. She’s scared, terrified, but her boy is so strong and she knows he’ll make her proud, like he does every day. She just needs him to be safe, but Peter’s proven to her time and time again that he can handle himself. She needs him to be safe, but she’s sure he will be. It doesn’t stop the worry, her boy is still in the middle of a warzone, but the panic simmers down into something more manageable.

“They’re calling it the _Endgame_ ,” May hums, “all the news stations, and people online.”

Happy looks straight ahead, a frown creasing his eyebrows. May appreciates the irony in his name being Happy. It was a nickname, Peter had told her, given to him by Tony, “fitting,” he comments, “feels like every damn hero on the planet is fighting in this thing. Last time I heard, they got Captain Marvel there, too.”

“Who?”

“Super strong alien, protects the universe, that sort of thing,” Happy explains vaguely, “I forgot she only really started visiting here after— uh, the dusting,” silence falls over the pair for a while, the hum of the engine filling the void before Happy speaks up again with a change of subject, “do you know where you and Peter are going to stay?”

And that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? May hasn’t thought about it. She’s been too busy worrying about scraping together every available detail of the battle that she hasn’t given much thought to the fact that her and Peter are now homeless. It’s coming up to two hours since everybody came back, and surely it’s too late to walk into a shelter. They’d all be full— right? Half of New York City is facing the same problem as her.

“I’ll figure something out,” May says. She tries to sound chipper but she knows it fails, and she sinks back into the plush car seat as she deflates.

She sees Happy throw a glance her way in her peripheral, and he taps lightly on the steering wheel as he offers, “you can stay with me, if you’re out of options. I only have one guest room, but I can take the couch.”

 _Yes_ , May immediately wants to say. She has no other plan, and Happy has just offered her a saving grace. She couldn’t even imagine not having anywhere for Peter to come back to if he— _when he_ survives this battle, “thank you, Happy. I can’t turn that down,” May admits, trying to subtly wipe at her watering eyes, “but we can’t kick you out of your room. Me and Peter can share the guest room, or one of us will take the couch.”

“I’ll drop you off, and you can make yourself at home,” Happy says, “but then I need to head upstate.”

May half wants to ask Happy to take her with him. Knows he’s heading towards the fight, and May wants to be there too, wants to be there for Peter. But, logically, she knows it’s a ridiculous notion. She’s a civilian, she knows this, and her being there will cause so much more harm than good. It doesn’t stop a part of her heart wishing she could go there, though. Maybe that’s just her maternal instinct, the one she’d developed the second that a four year old Peter Parker became her responsibility.

But she knows she’s safer at Happy’s apartment, and so she will stay at Happy’s apartment.

It’s not like it’s a chore to do so. Happy’s apartment is something ripped straight from one of those high-end interior design magazines. It’s sleek and minimalistic and beautiful, but it also makes May miss her own apartment: cozy and vibrant and personal and something she’s never going to be able to go back to.

Happy leaves almost immediately after they arrive, apologising profusely as he slips out the door. May’s not offended— knows the situation they’re in, and is thankful that Happy even _thought_ of her, with what must be a million more pressing matters on his mind.

May spends the next hour huddled up on the couch, scrolling through battle updates on her phone. The television is on in the background, repeatedly covering the story. The updates seem to have slowed. The news anchor on the television says that they believe the fight has ended, but they don’t have details. No one has _details_. May locks her phone and throws it down beside her in frustration, and her eyes dart around the room looking for something else to focus on.

She finds this _something_ else easily enough, in a set of framed photos displayed proudly on Happy’s mantlepiece. There’s three of them, and May stands from the couch and steps towards the photos for a better look. She doesn’t recognise the people in the first photo. Happy’s parents, maybe? That’s her guess. She doesn’t pay it much mind, not when her eyes float to the second photograph. This one’s a lot more crowded, and May recognises most of the people in it. There’s Happy, Tony, and Pepper. James Rhodes — who May has never met but has heard wonderful stories about, courtesy of her nephew — and a little girl that May has never seen before. She’s sitting on Pepper’s lap, looks like she’s young— definitely not older than five.

It hits May, then, that she knows exactly who this is.

“Wow,” May says to herself. The little girl is adorable, such a perfect blend of her parents that, despite the situation upstate, it makes May smile. She’s glad they were able to be happy, for the past five years.

May’s eyes move to the final photo, and her heart stops for a second. Because, staring back at her, is Peter, bracketed by Tony and Happy. Happy is scowling, while the other two look into the camera with wide grins. It’s— May doesn’t know if she wants to smile or cry about the fact that Happy thought that Peter deserved a spot here on his mantelpiece, among all the important people in his life.

May’s ringtone interrupts her before she can think about it anymore. Her phone is still on the couch, and she’s almost impressed with how quickly she makes it back over there, scoops her phone up and reads the caller ID with the most intense wave of relief she thinks she’s ever experienced.

“Peter, honey,” May sighs as she answers, so full of relief and worry and sadness that she feels overwhelmed. She can’t wait to hear his voice, is so glad they’re finally able to talk to each other, after all the stress of today. May can’t even _imagine_ how Peter must be feeling, “where are you? Are you okay? Let me—”

A sniff cuts her off, grinds May’s train of thought to a halt. And then Peter’s voice, so small and so broken, rasps, “Tony’s dead.”

May feels her heart plummet to her stomach. No. _No_. Please, no, the world has been so cruel to her baby. Please, _please_ , no, not this, too. Don’t take this from him.

“I’ll tell Happy to pick you up, he’s heading upstate,” May says, holding back tears. She has to be the strong one right now, someone safe and level-headed and organised, “where are you, honey? Are you still near the compound?”

May feels like she’s probably a bad person, because she’s devastated, but not really for Tony. Which actually upsets her, too. Tony is — _was_ , that's going to be difficult to get used to — such a good person. Tony was kind, cared for Peter so much and did so much more for their family than was necessary. This loss is one May’s sure will be felt throughout the universe.

But, she’s more upset for Peter. Her boy, who’s done nothing but _give_ to a world that takes and takes and _takes_ from him, always. Her boy, who’s lost so much, too much, and now _this_. Now this.

She thinks, briefly, about the little girl in the photo on Happy's mantelpiece. The lump in her throat grows.

“Doctor Strange is gonna— uh,” Peter says, and May can hear the exhaustion in his voice, hear where he’s been screaming and crying. May hates it. She hates it so much, “are you at home? He said he’ll drop me off. Because he’ll just, like, open up a portal for me.”

A _portal_. Any other day, that would prompt an excessive amount of excitable chatter from Peter. He’d be rattling off facts about science and magic and how totally awesome it is, and May wouldn’t really understand but she’d listen carefully to every word. Now, there’s no chatter. Not at all.

She doesn’t really want to break the fact that they’re homeless to Peter right now. Instead, she simply says, “no, baby. We’re staying at Happy’s for a little while, okay?”

“Happy’s?” Peter echos. He sounds too tired to even be confused. “Happy Hogan?”

“Mhm,” May affirms, keeping her voice soft and calming, “just for a little while. You know where that is?”

“Yeah, got it,” Peter says. May steels herself in preparation for the portal, but she still flinches when bright orange sparks appear on the other side of the room. Sue her— she’s just a civilian.

May stands quickly and paces towards the forming portal, and it takes everything in her to keep her face from plummeting when she sees the state Peter’s in. He’s in a metal suit and there’s dirt and _blood_ on his face and in his hair and May thinks she should’ve expected this, considering what he’s just been through, but she didn’t.

She’s frozen on the spot as Peter steps through the portal, emotion unreadable and unsteady on his feet. May tears her gaze away from her nephew just long enough to see who she assumes is Doctor Strange give her a curt, solemn nod as he closes the portal.

“Oh, my baby,” May says, as Peter promptly stumbles towards her and bursts into tears and, can you get second hand shell-shock? Because May's pretty sure she has it as she rubs a comforting hand on his back as he cries into her shoulder, “it’s okay. You’re safe, you’re okay."

May’s holding him in her arms and she’s finding it increasingly difficult to hold back her tears, and there’s something a bit too soberingly familiar about the pair of them crying over a man who was taken before his time.

“I can’t take this anymore,” Peter sobs, “I seriously can’t take this anymore.”

Peter’s amassed more trauma in sixteen years than most people in their entire lives. It’s not really fair. Bad things shouldn’t happen to good people, and Peter’s one of the best.

“You’ll be okay,” May says, because what else can she say? She knows from experience that there’s nothing she can say to stop this from hurting him, “you know it gets easier.”

There’s silence for a few long moments, before Peter whispers hoarsely, “no matter what I do, they always die. Please don’t die, May.”

She feels fresh tears stinging her eyes at that one. She pulls back from their embrace slightly so she can see Peter’s face, brushes his hair out of his eyes and says, “I’m not going anywhere, honey.”

It’s selfish, but she hopes it’s a promise she can’t fulfill. Not immediately, of course — she’s still got so much life left in her — but in thirty years, when she’s geriatric and she knows Peter will be okay without her? That’s when she wants to go.

She knows she won’t be able to cope if Peter dies before her, whether that’s in two months or two decades. Maybe it’s selfish, but people are allowed to be selfish sometimes. No one should ever have to bury their child. May hates that the likelihood of her having to do that grows a little bit every day.

“Why don’t you go have a shower, hm?” May prompts softly, pressing a kiss to his hairline. “I’ll fix something for you to eat. How’s wheatcakes?”

Peter looks so— sad’s the wrong word. _Empty_ , maybe. May expects it, thinks anyone would be the same in his position, but that doesn’t mean she likes it. He simply nods, and heads off towards the bathroom. May watches him go with an ache in her heart. Not for the first time, she wishes he never became Spider-Man.

May Parker loves and supports her child. She thinks he’s a good person who does good things, and taking Spider-Man away from a city that’s used to having him around would do a whole lot more harm than good. She’d never ask him to hang up the mask. But is it wrong of her to wish he’d never put it on? Peter’s saved a lot of lives, but he’s sacrificed a lot of himself to do it. He’s sixteen. Why— why does he have to deal with this? Why does this fall onto his shoulders? It doesn’t make much sense to May, at all.

May doesn’t think she can take this anymore, either. She longs for the simplicity of a life without superheroes and aliens and magic. She feels like she’s breaking apart at the seams, still trying to come to terms with the fact that she’s missed out on five years of life; that Peter just helped to save the universe; that every single one of her material belongings are probably sitting in a garbage dump right now. Her furniture, her clothes, her photo albums: lost forever. It shatters her heart just a little more. Where does she fit in this world that she's been absent from for five years?

It’s all a bit too much for her, but she’ll suck it up and smile because it’s so much _more_ for Peter. She has to be the strong one now, has to be there for him no matter how she feels.

Because that’s what mothers do.

**Author's Note:**

> this was sitting like 70% complete in my docs for 5 months and febuwhump encouraged me to finish it. i won't be filling every prompt this month but definitely want to do a few!!
> 
> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kaplanverse) if you're into that


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